I have always been someone who spends much time in reflection and contemplation. I'm not sure if I picked up the writing habit because of it, or if my interest writing came about because of it.. but it has been a part of me for as long as I can remember.
I remember an old boyfriend early on chastising me for looking back down the road and admonishing me for the waste of time it was making reference to all the potholes he saw, where I'd seen lost chances. At the time I was just a kid, who thought she knew so much more than she really did, and he was just a guy who'd been lulled into a false sense of bravado by a girl who worshiped the ground he walked on. He dismissed me, and my feelings simply because I allowed it for so so long..
When I think of the crazy things that I let slide and made myself believe were OK under the guise of having a boyfriend I find myself wishing I could call up Marty and the Doc and go back and give my young self a much-needed stupid slap.. if only..
Strangely, this same boyfriend would later come back to me after a girlfriend broke up with him, flashing a ring that "could have been mine" complete with the gushing and smile that not long before would have sucked my heart into a vortex and kept it swirling in the fish bowl for all eternity.. but I'd wised up and not so-graciously declined.
For a long time I still had the letter he wrote me saying that I'd walked out on him in the middle of the biggest power trip of his life. He'd come to expect that I'd always be there waiting for him and doting on him, and this time his world came crashing down around him and for once there was nobody sitting there waiting to dust him off and tell him that it would all be OK.
I never really thought too much about it at the time.. but we sure allow ourselves to put up with a lot, and then we chalk it up to love - or a relationship and somehow that's supposed to be ok?
When I think of all the great things I talked myself out of wanting for myself, the opportunities wasted.. it makes my head spin.. SO much baggage carted around for so many years that should never have left the station with me. It wasn't *MY* fault that my parents didn't work out, or that she never really gave us a solid commitment to anything growing up. I spent a long time wondering how anybody would ever want me, if my own mother didn't. It's a tough pill to swallow for a kid..
I sometimes wonder if I could go back in time and tell my 15-16 year old self ONE piece of advice, what might it be. I remember being so unsure of everything, so insecure and timid. So afraid to stand up for anything because someone might not like what I had to say.. so worried that I would be alienated from one particular group or another just for sharing how I felt.
I think the biggest thing I'd tell my young self, is that no matter what - You are important, you *ARE* worth it, and most importantly - one day none of this will matter.. and it WILL all be OK.
I wish I could have told my 16 year old self, that I'd one day find that handsome prince that I'd only read about in fairy tales. That the story wouldn't play out exactly the way I thought, but that I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of. In true *me* fashion, I've taken the indirect route to get there, and it's taken longer than it perhaps could have.. but here is here, None the less!
Sometimes it really has nothing to do with you at all, and that's OK ~ Life goes on, and heartache is just part of the ride. Without it, the sunny days wouldn't seem nearly as awesome!